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Inexplicably, an artificial sun lights your dreary world.
This sun shouts at you, begging for attention, yet not a single sight,
Nor a single sound is formed in your linear realm.
You continue your usual duties, but are oblivious to the curious entities,
That study your every move.
Your monochrome world is a streaming phantasmagoria,
A kaleidoscope of swirling, transparent, minute shapes,
A phantom tempest of hectic serenity.
Pandemonium, yet wondrous,
The quintessence of Life.
You do not know what you are,
You do not question why you live.
Thoughts such as these are pointless in your primordial world.
Your mind, much like your body, lacks a form…
It is unlikely you are even aware you exist.
Throwing out your infinite arms you oozing yourself forward.
Like a gelatinous inchworm,
You plop yourself across the canvas of slick, smooth glass.
You have a single, perpetual goal,
Feed. Consume. Devore. Absorb. Ingest.
After sensing a passing form, you stalk the creature like a spider ready to pounce.
Deploying your tendrils you grasp the squirming creature,
Your endoplasmic tentacles gripping with the deadly accuracy of the fearsome Kraken.
None will care, however, none will be bereft by the absence of this life form.
Its life, like yours, is negligible.
The sun leaves its sojourn upon this lively nothingness you call home.
After the loss of light, darkness once again curls in your domain.
You continue your duties,